The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 158: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

628 sprang to his feet trembling with ex- citement. ‘‘ There—the infernal thing is loose again—and could we have locked it up there might have been peace in all the borders—peace for men and women to live and work and spend their lives in happiness and all pros- perity as God ordained from the be- ginning—to have lost it! I cannot bear it—my one chance to have brought uni- versal peace into the world—cable, Norton—cable. Tell them to send it— there can be no peace till it is gone— the Thing That Was Caesar’s.” The last words were almost a shout. He slipped back into his chair sitting sidewise and Oakes looking at him saw that his face was gray and cold. The man was dead. Norton sprang to lift him and laid THE ARGOSY. the long body on the divan. The young American took his wife into his arms where she cried quietly. “We will go now,” he said after a time. A little later, while driving home in the cab, he read the head - lines that gave the details of the most brutally unnecessary murder in all modern his- tory—the murder of Madero. His exclamation made his wife look up. “What is it, dear? ”’ she asked. “T wish the thing had been kept locked up here,” he said gravely. “ The devil, I suppose, will now break loose in Mexico. We've got trouble enough there now.” He took his wife in his arms and kissed her, THE END. AH! HOW SWEET IT IS TO LOVE! Au, how sweet it is to love! Ah, how gay is young desire! And ‘what pleasing pains we prove When we first approach love’s fire! . Pains of love be sweeter far Than all other pleasures are. Sighs which are from lovers blown Do but gently heave the heart: Even the tears they shed alone Cure, like trickling balm, their smart, Lovers, when they lose their breath, Bleed away in easy death. Love and Time with reverence use, Treat them like a parting friend; Nor the golden gifts refuse Which in youth sincere they send: For each year their price is more, And they less simple than before. Love, like spring-tides full and high, Swells in every youthful vein; But each tide does less supply; Till they quite shrink in again. If a flow in age appear, *Tis but rain, and runs not clear. John Dryden, CO NOO AMUUC S CO@